


We're only here for just a moment in the light

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Virgin!Keith, so many feelings and they're all sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Keith's been in love with his friend for so long.





	We're only here for just a moment in the light

**Author's Note:**

> ps before any gremlins yell at me, Keith's 16 and Adam doesn't exist. 
> 
> title from Starset's Starlight aka the sheith anthem.

Keith only has one friend. He didn’t plan to have any: he planned to check this Garrison out and then leave if it came to it, but somehow, through some mystical goddamn means, Keith now has a friend.

 

How’s it going, Keith? 

 

Are you okay, Keith?

 

Hey, buddy, wanna go riding today? 

 

Shiro’s hands tend to linger on him, all day. Either on Keith’s neck, a gentle pressure to remind Keith of his place, to calm him down. On Keith’s shoulder, a friendly squeeze to reassure him. 

 

I won’t give up on you, Shiro loves to say. Shiro smiles, more often than Keith. Shiro ruffles his hair, takes him hoverbike riding, leans over him in the simulator and guides him. Keith does what he wants and wins anyway. Shiro’s frustrated little huff is all worth it. 

 

Now, it wouldn’t be too bad to have this one friend, if Keith’s furious teenage hormones hadn’t decided to fuck him up and filled his mind with images of losing his virginity to no other but said friend: as if Shiro would. Shiro is older. Shiro is more experienced, taller, broader. Shiro is universally loved by teachers and students alike and it’s no wonder there are talks of him being chosen for the Kerberos mission. 

 

And each day Keith’s feelings for his friend, his only, best friend grow deep until he feels like he’s on fire. He feels the burning fire of humiliation on his face when his roommate helpfully informs him that he’s been moaning in his sleep. It takes Keith a while to look Shiro in the eye.

 

Shiro wouldn’t touch him like that.

 

Right? 

 

But if Shiro leaves for Kerberos, then who’s left for Keith? What’s the point of remaining in the Garrison? Keith has no one else. There’s no one to show off to. No one then to dream about. 

 

Keith wishes Shiro dreamed of him. 

 

So he heads for Shiro’s room one particularly chilly, quiet night, already in his pyjamas, stealthy enough to know where the cameras are, where the night guards do their rounds in the halls. The officers and older students and TAs have their rooms way on the other side of the compound - or at least it feels that way - but Keith knows the way.

 

He also knows Shiro’s always alone, having been rewarded with a single room after gaining a rank.

 

Keith knocks.

 

And when there’s no sound, he knocks again. Presses his ear to the door. “Shiro?” He whispers. 

 

The door slides open so quickly that Keith stumbles straight into his friend, conveniently shirtless, hair already sticking up like he had been running his fingers through it. 

“H-hey, wow, what are you doing here, buddy?” Shiro grabs him easily and sets him on his feet. 

 

A loud buzz fills Keith’s ears. Shiro is shirtless. It’s even more obvious that Shiro is bigger than him, way more adult than him: his muscles have hard curves that Keith would love to trace. 

 

He must make a sound because Shiro is pulling him inside his room.

“You okay? You look a little red.” Shiro’s hand is too warm on Keith’s forehead. Yet it feels cool when Keith grabs it and brings it to his lips. He’s shaking from his own bravery, his heart thunderous in his chest. Do it, he tells himself. Do it. Tell him. Do it. 

 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, breathless. 

 

“K-Keith, what are you - “ 

 

Keith chews on his lip. He’d thought his plan over a hundred times. He’d looked at Shiro a hundred times when Shiro hadn’t been looking. Keith had dreamed a hundred dreams about Shiro. Shiro is all he has. Shiro is all he wants. Who cares why, Shiro is everything to him and the enormity of it makes Keith’s knees weak. 

 

“I want to -” Keith starts, voice dry. He holds Shiro’s hand - big, calloused, endlessly warm - between his own and marvels at the size difference. Keith had already started to grow into his own, is more leg than boy but Shiro is proportionate everywhere. 

 

Shiro’s voice has gone rough too. “Keith, I don’t think -” His fingers curl, like readying himself to pull away. 

 

Yet that roughness ignites hope in Keith. He looks up, steps close, kisses Shiro’s fingers reverently. “I want to have sex,” he says, jaw tight, heart beating like a war drum. 

 

Shiro jolts visibly, pulls his hand away. “Keith! You can’t just - blurt it out, you - “ he licks his lips and looks away, looks away, he can’t be embarrassed, can’t be feeling shy, can he? Keith knows how Shiro’s arms feel around him, a protective blanket from the coldness of the world. Keith knows how soft Shiro’s lips are, having received a multitude of proud forehead-kisses. Keith knows the warmth of Shiro’s hands on his shoulder, on his back, on his arm. 

 

Why can’t he feel this too? 

 

“Why?” Keith bites his lip. “Is it my age? It’s not like I’m a damn toddler. I’m sixteen, dammit.” 

 

Shiro draws breath and places his palms on Keith’s shoulders. “Buddy, it’s - there are rules.” 

 

Keith grimaces. “Like I give a shit about the stupid rules.” Yet he doesn't slap Shiro’s hands away. He wants them to remain. 

 

“I-is it… do you … you haven’t - “ Shiro swallows. “I Just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” He towers over Keith so easily, his eyes too dark to decipher. He pulls Keith closer, into a hug. “You’re my best friend.” 

 

“You’re mine,” Keith whispers. He means as friend, as everything. “I need it, Shiro.” He tries to pull back from the embrace, just enough to see the troubled turn of Shiro’s mouth, the darkness in his eyes. “Take me,” Keith stutters out, grasping Shiro’s biceps, so much thicker than his. “Don’t make me beg - nnnh!” 

 

He’s being kissed then, Shiro’s arms thick and muscular around him, keeping him in an iron grip where Keith couldn’t escape from, even if he wanted to. He gasps into the kiss, neck bent, suddenly balancing on his tiptoes to reach Shiro’s mouth: gone hungry. 

 

“Oh, Keith, if you knew - “Shiro whispers, breaks the kiss and looks unfairly desperate now, a few dark strands on his forehead. 

 

“Knew what?” Keith can’t ask more because he’s being kissed again. He takes it, accepts it, nudges Shiro until Shiro is taking the hint and backing himself to his bed. Keith yelps when Shiro’s hands grab his ass and lift him, right to Shiro’s lap. 

 

Keith takes the opportunity to touch wherever he can reach. There is so much perfect, muscled Shiro to touch, Keith’s own legs stupidly long and lanky and stick-thin spread over Shiro’s thick ones. Shiro devours his mouth, Keith devours his heart with every twitch and every groan. 

 

When he rocks his hips, guided by his awakening desire and raging teenage hormones, Shiro moans. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world and Keith eats it up, throws his head back when Shiro tugs his hair and whines as Shiro kisses his throat. 

 

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro whispers in that same melancholic tone, sharpened by his evident arousal. 

 

Keith can’t ask him what he’s thinking about, because Shiro is touching his lips with his fingers and Keith has to have them in his mouth, right now. He grabs Shiro’s wrist and sucks, his cheeks hollowing around one calloused fingertip. 

 

“Oh, baby,” is what Shiro whispers now, cheeks pink, yet he’s getting hard because of this, because of Keith’s lithe body on his lap. Shiro slides his hand easily into Keith’s pyjama pants and shudders. 

 

“Did you intent to seduce me?” Shiro’s eyes narrow. “You’re not wearing underwear.” 

 

Keith’s turn to shudder and writhe and sway. He nods, drawing Shiro’s finger in to the first knuckle. Shiro stuffs him with two more fingers and Keith gags but Shiro doesn’t pull away. 

 

Keith groans. His eyes are watering, he grunts, whines, makes more noise from just fingersucking and Shiro’s heavy gaze than necessary. Dialing it down isn’t possible: Shiro’s other hand has drifted between his asscheeks and is rubbing his pucker. 

 

“Cute,” Shiro whispers and smiles, but his smile isn’t cheerful, isn’t earnest, none of the things Shiro is in the daytime. Tonight Keith has released him, set free the desire that has been held back in Shiro for way too long. 

 

“You have so much more fire in you than most old veterans, baby,” Shiro continues to speak, even as he pulls his fingers from Keith’s mouth and tucks Keith’s pants over his ass. Even as he reaches to Keith’s hole to rub him, to massage him, to finger him. “I thought I - I couldn’t have you.” 

 

“Shiro,” Keith tries, rocks once more on Shiro’s lap and feels his used mouth watering at the feeling of Shiro’s cock trying to push through his boxers.

 

“But I can. I can have you, Keith. Just like this. God.” Shiro slips a finger in, too dry, not enough, it aches and Shiro knows it. “You’re so little, Keith. Someday you won’t be, you still have a lot left to grow but - for now. You’re so little.” 

 

Keith whines. “Speak too much.” So he cups Shiro’s face and kisses him, grinds and grinds and grinds. His heart is still a thunder, his skin clammy, his mouth so dry. The finger in his ass thrusts further in until it’s all the way. Keith inhales shakily. “Feels funny.” 

 

Shiro smiles at that, not quite reaching his eyes. He kisses his way from Keith’s mouth to his jaw, to his neck. “You can reach my nightstand, baby. I don’t have condoms right now, but there’s lube. It’s the big bottle.” Shiro’s free to touch him however and wherever: he’s unbuttoning Keith’s night shirt and letting it fall off Keith’s shoulders before he can even begin to reach out for the nightstand. 

 

His movements falter, a shaky gasp escapes when Shiro’s mouth finds his nipple. Never has it even crossed Keith’s mind to touch there. 

 

He scrambles to open the little drawer, winces when Shiro sucks his nipple hard, pinches it, lays a little kiss on it. “Y-you’re weird,” Keith huffs as he pulls back, the bottle in hand. He’s still breathless, still painfully hard. 

 

“You came to my room,” Shiro whispers and takes the bottle. He distracts Keith with a kiss as he lubes up his hand, slides his tongue into Keith’s mouth as he slides his finger into Keith’s ass. Now it feels proper: Keith’s tried to finger himself before but had never quite managed the angle. And his fingers are not this thick, not this experienced. 

 

“You’re big,” Keith murmurs, lays his hands on Shiro’s bulge now, their foreheads pressing together. 

 

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers. “Wanna touch it?” When Keith nods, Shiro tugs him into yet another kiss, hard enough to steal all the air from Keith’s lungs. It leaves Keith light-headed and hot, his own cock almost pathetic next to the beautiful, thick shaft that Shiro uncovers from his boxers.

 

Shiro swallows Keith’s swear words with a kiss: like now that he can, he doesn’t want to stop. A second finger joins the first one in Keith’s ass and now Keith’s quivering, his hands too little to properly wrap around both of their cocks. 

“You’re doing great, baby, that’s the way,” Shiro keeps murmuring, keeps whispering. His other hand is keeping Keith’s cheek spread, fingertips digging into the plush skin. “So proud of you, Keith.” 

 

Keith will never be able to hear those words from Shiro again without thinking of this. 

 

Shiro nuzzles his temple, kisses it, kisses his nose, his mouth again. His hips nudge, his cock throbs. Keith’s mouth is drier than the fucking desert but he wants to - oh, he wants to. 

“S-Shiro, I want - “

 

Shiro fingers him with casual ease, increases two to three when prompted, when the softest, pained please leaves Keith’s lips. “O-Oh God.” Keith rocks back against those fingers, against his own hands, forehead dropping against Shiro’s muscular shoulder.

 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Shiro’s voice is a rumbling purr. His fingers are so dexterous, so clever. They curl and they twist and they rub everywhere inside Keith, he feels soft and he feels wet and he wants, oh, he wants - 

 

“Shiro, I - “

 

“Use your words,” Shiro murmurs. He shifts his wrist and curls his fingers again, rubs elsewhere and - Keith jolts at the burst of pleasure, bangs his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder, eyes wide. 

 

Shiro chuckles. “There’s a good spot. Come on, baby, what do you want?” 

 

Keith tries to keep jerking their cocks, but he’s hyperfocused on those fingers, on the alluring tone of Shiro’s voice. 

“I - I - I want to have sex - “

 

“We are having sex,” Shiro purrs and nuzzles him again. He presses, caresses, does something to make Keith cry out again, his cock spurt a few droplets of pre-cum. 

“More,” Keith whines, finds Shiro’s mouth. “Give me more. I’ve been dreaming of you for so -” Keith’s cheeks burn hot. 

 

“Dreaming of me?” Shiro’s mouth is smiling, his eyes are devouring. 

 

“Fucking me.” It falls odd from Keith’s tongue, that word. In this context it is odd in its enormity, in the liquid fire it pours into Keith’s veins. 

 

It does the same to Shiro, because Shiro is lifting him again and tossing him to bed, on his back, pulling off his pyjamas before Keith can even begin to say anymore. Then they’re kissing, then they’re grinding and Keith doesn’t mind that his knees are against his chest, that there is a pillow under his hips. 

“I don’t have a condom like I said, but - “ Shiro nibbles his lip. 

 

“Fuck me,” Keith groans, eyes squeezed close, his hole throbbing from where it’s been fingered and rubbed and massaged. He can’t look, he wants to, but he can’t: Shiro is so big. 

 

“Look at me,” Shiro whispers and cups his face, settles between Keith’s thighs, so stupidly stick-thin between Shiro’s own well-formed ones. 

 

Keith looks. Shiro smiles, then kisses him, slowly. His fingers brush Keith’s hole once more, then slip away to  - 

 

Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck and whimpers. “Please, Shiro. Please - I -” Shiro covers him so well. Shiro’s broad shoulders alone are something Keith could ride on - or use as handlebars if Shiro ever- Keith’s flush is deeper, but his desire is even more so. 

 

When Shiro pushes in, pushes that heavy, weeping cock in, Keith cries so loud that Shiro slams his palm on his mouth. 

“I don’t want to have to gag you, baby boy,” Shiro murmurs and bites Keith’s shoulder, holds his body against his own, broad one. 

 

Keith’s body arches, Shiro’s hands slide to his hips to grab them, bruising and hard. Shiro takes his time to push in, makes Keith feel every single damn inch. Keith knows he’ll ache tomorrow, the day after. He’ll have to make excuses to not have to sit down. What does it matter: Shiro is taking the last part of him that makes him a boy and not a man, Shiro is his best friend, his only friend and Keith wants him needs him loves him forever. 

 

That is the only thing Keith knows and holds dear. 

 

So he lets himself cry, lets himself be bruised and manhandled, moans and sucks on Shiro’s fingers, sucks on his tongue as he’s fucked, as Shiro increases his pace, slams his hips into Keith until Keith’s going to feel it next week. 

 

It’s the little word, the four-letter word that burns through Keith’s veins, the one he’ll never say. But he’ll take this, he’ll climb into Shiro’s bed again and ride his cock, kiss him until all the world dies down and it’s just the two of them. Shiro is his. Shiro is his. 

 

Shiro holds onto him like a last lifeline and and kisses him like he was the most precious thing in the world. Shiro, who saved him, who vouched for him: whose car Keith stole and whose sleep he’s now stealing. Yet Shiro whispers praise to him and strokes him reverently, fucks him like he was just a fucktoy and Keith loses himself, finds himself, picks up the pieces and puts himself together, again and again, until he’s too exhausted to come, until he can only drag his fingers through the cum on his skin - Shiro’s cum - and lick it, lazy and cat-like. 

 

“Baby,” Shiro whispers last and kisses him, strokes his hair. Shiro’s cock is softening, only now pulled out of Keith but Shiro’s still between his legs, gazing at him. 

 

“I’m fine,” Keith whispers back and smiles. The four letters he’ll never say and Shiro will never feel. Maybe this is enough.


End file.
